<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Little Miss (Not So) Perfect by Little_Queen_of_Dreams</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27949025">Little Miss (Not So) Perfect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Queen_of_Dreams/pseuds/Little_Queen_of_Dreams'>Little_Queen_of_Dreams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Owl House (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amity Blight Angst, Amity Blight-centric, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Depression, F/F, Faeries and fae lore, Gay Disaster Amity Blight, Gen, Lesbian Disaster Amity Blight, Mental Health Issues, More tags to be added, Musical References, Original Bisexual Character, SOMEONE GIVE THE BLIGHT CHILDREN THERAPY, Six the Musical References, Slow Burn, The Blight Parents A+ Parenting, Trans Edric Blight, Updated every Wednesday!, mental health centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:40:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27949025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Queen_of_Dreams/pseuds/Little_Queen_of_Dreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her fingers brushed the mirror’s cool surface, the glass seeming to heat for a fraction of a second. Confused, she looked up.</p><p>If she was expecting to once again meet her own gaze, she’d been clearly mistaken. </p><p>In which Amity Blight (the resident perfect witch of Hexide) finds herself face to face with--someone--in her mirror (and quite possibly gets herself adopted by a disaster bisexual). </p><p>This story focuses on mental health (especially surrounding Amity and the twins) along with the chaos of the Boiling Isles and the hidden darkness surrounding the Emperor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amity Blight &amp; Edric Blight &amp; Emira Blight &amp; Luz Noceda, Amity Blight &amp; Original Female Character(s), Amity Blight &amp; Principal Bump, Amity Blight/Luz Noceda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Straight Forward?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HI!</p><p>I don't have a degree in psychology, but I do extensive research on mental health (especially when dealing with my own) and my heart legitimately broke when I watched the Little Miss Perfect animatic by ThatOneDorkThatDraws. (No kidding, I can no longer listen to this song because I will cry and then have to explain to my family why I can't handle sad gays when one of my favorite musicals is Lizzie).</p><p>Please let me know what you think! I have a lot of this written and still in the editing stage, but I'd love to hear your ideas/reactions.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Amity shut the door to her bedroom, wincing her eyes close as the steps receded. Dealing with her parents was something she could handle, just wasn’t ready to do now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She would, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Treading over to her desk, she shoved the stack of books in her hands onto the ever growing pile. The day had been long, stressful, and overly confusing. Confusing enough to require checking out what her siblings had teased to be “half the library.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If it took her half the library to keep up her streak of scholarly perfection, she’d take half the library. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes met her own in the mirror, brows fixed in a tight scowl as she slid into her seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grimacing at the list of homework, she rifled around the pile for her Abominations textbook. Coming up empty, she peered over the edge of her desk to find it wedged against her mirror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Typical.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she leaned down to retrieve it, her fingers brushed the mirror’s cool surface, the glass seeming to heat for a fraction of a second. Confused, she looked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she was expecting to once again meet her own gaze, she’d been clearly mistaken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her own room, patchworked and comfortable was gone, replaced by an almost futuristic area. White walls were covered in a messy collage of posters, photographs, and a large framed picture of a woman under the name “Marilyn.” A bed could be seen, shoved in the corner and piled high with a plethora of pillows, blankets, and patchwork animals. The oddest part was the teenager in the middle. A small frame perched itself on a dangerously tilted desk chair, her blonde hair fixed up in what Amity assumed to be a messy bun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(If the person that had made the bun was a preschooler who’d never worked with hair before).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eyes narrowing, Amity regarded her with a sense of suspicion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat up at the sound, chair legs awkwardly clunking to the ground as she swiveled around calmly, eyebrows raised when Amity came into her view, lips fixed in a moderately confused smirk. “You’re not Sirius.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you and why are you in my mirror?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell if I know.” She shrugged, sliding off the chair to get a closer look. “At least you’re cute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you--what?” Amity balked. “What do you mean at least I’m cute?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She disappeared from view, returning a few moments later with a notebook. “If I’m not going to see myself, I might as well see someone as adorably darling as you.” She winked over the page. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Face in full view, Amity eyed her with confusion. Delicate seemed to be the word to describe her, escaped strands of hair falling lightly around her face, two pointed ears poking through to frame her eyes. Her eyes. They appeared almost unnatural: old, ancient even, but stuck in the face of a teenager. Oddly enough, she was wearing a crown, its rose colored stones reflecting the late afternoon sun that came through her window, light falling off her face and disappearing into the black of her shirt and jeans. if people in her mirror were anything out of the ordinary, she didn’t show it, adjusting her top, giving Amity a better view of the words marked in gold, a crown underneath the phrase,’the notorious RBG.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has this happened before?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, one other guy.” She smirked at the memory. “It was fun. You don’t get to meet many gay wizards in your lifetime.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t he be a witch?” She watched intently as she went about her space, pulling different pens and notebooks into view.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because JK Rowling decided to create magical gender roles. Wait-” She stopped, looking up, “Are you a witch?” A grin spread across her face as Amity nodded. “That’s so cool. One of my friends is a witch, a really good one, I think. I don’t really know much about witchcraft.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fought back a scowl. “What are you if you’re not a witch? How could you have a magic mirror?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a faerie.” She said the word with nonchalant reverence, mischief flitting about her face. “Witches aren’t the only ones with magic, hell, I didn’t even know it was enchanted. I just got it from my tree.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity rolled her eyes. “If you’re a faerie, it’s no wonder you’re so short.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s it!” Standing up, she disappeared from the image. “We are not finishing this conversation until I’m properly armed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity leaned over to get a better view. “Who says this is a conversation?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You appear to be happy and you haven’t called for backup to deal with the crazy in your mirror.” She waltzed back in. “That’s better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing had changed except for her feet. She no longer wore socks, instead a pair of black heeled boots, dotted with bits of silver and gold. Dramatically making her way over to her desk chair, she smirked. “I always wear my Six boots when I need to be tall.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s two of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a theatre thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re sitting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still taller.” She crossed one leg over the other dramatically. “Now, if we’re going to continue this conversation, what should I call you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Amity looked up from the bedazzled heels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name? Pronouns? I’m called Alice by most.” She winked. “However, I will also respond to ‘your majesty.’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity fought back the urge to roll her eyes again. “You can call me Amity, Amity Blight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Miss Amity Blight, do let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I don’t know much about witches besides Pip, but my homework is all about the Industrial Revolution and the beginning of capitalism.” Alice sighed. “Believe me when I say, there’s nothing more depressing than a bunch of white guys with too much money who write books about what’s wrong with society.” She blinked, face hardening into a defeated line. “Except for the realization that none of that’s changed, except now it’s both books and tweeting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea what any of that means.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “Be grateful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity’s gaze landed on her pile. There was work she needed to get done. Work, practice, and extra credit to be completed for the chance to keep her position as top student. Keep her badge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it wasn't every day that someone showed up in your mirror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few more questions couldn’t hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What coven is your friend in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Alice considered the thought. “She’s not in one, I don't think. You need three witches for a coven and the only others she knows have their own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity’s eyes grew wide. “So she’s a wild witch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nowhere close.” Alice laughed. “She’s the actual personification of sunshine, so not very wild. Pip’s the sort of person that has to stop to meet every cat, dog, and rat that’s on a leash and walking down the street.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But what magic does she perform?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All healthy types, like the others. I mean, coven doesn’t mean restriction, it’s a bond. At least it is here.” She disappeared from view again. “Let me check.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Returning with a thickly bound volume, she skipped through a couple of pages before landing on one. Turning the book to face Amity, she pointed to a section. “That’s our definition of a coven, and from what I checked it seems to be almost universal.” Looking down, she noticed Amity’s wide-eyed concentration on the page’s corner. “Kid? Everything alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snapping her attention up to Alice, she nodded slightly, Fingers tensing around the seat of her chair, she unclenched one, pointing to the margins. “Where did those come from?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice followed her gaze to a small collection of glyphs on the page’s edge, shrugging. “They’re mine, Tatania says I need to practice writing in fae, so it’s all over my stuff. I normally tell people it’s just doodles. Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can read them?” Amity grabbed a book, flipping it open to take out a piece of paper. “Does that mean you can read this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Alice squinted at it, “I mean, I could if it wasn’t backwards. Let me get a mirror.” Regarding her with a sense of odd suspicion, she eyed her before disappearing. “Where’d you get it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s this book. The school’s had it for centuries but no one’s been able to read it.” She rocked back and forth in her seat. “It’s offered as extra credit as a sort of joke, I copied down a page and I was sure I could crack it, only-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t.” Hefting an unnaturally large hand mirror, Alice came back into view. “Don’t give me that look. The dressing rooms never have enough mirrors and if you don’t have one then you have to fight through a cloud of hairspray and a whole bunch of powders that really shouldn’t be ingested.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity blinked. “Not that, how did you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a fail safe,” resting the mirror against her legs, she began scribbling furtively in a notebook. “Only faeries can read fae and since none of you are faeries-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one’s been able to read it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Alice bit her lip, eyes narrowing at the mirror. “There's some weird figures here, my guess is some reality alterations, but nothing I shouldn't be able to handle. Looks like a history book, I think. Is there something else you can do while I translate? It’s pretty boring.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity gave a shaky smile. “Yeah, I've got work, a lot of work.” Hefting another book onto her desk she glanced over to Alice, surrounded by a world she didn’t know or recognize.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking time from her world to help someone she barely knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe having someone like that wasn’t so bad after all. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I don't cut corners?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A second translation with Alice. </p><p>Some startling knowledge. </p><p>Some striking secrets.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, remember when I said I had most of this written?</p><p>It's true, I have a decent amount of this written. However, I did not have the backstory exposition thing in the middle of this written. It bounced around a couple of friends before I eventually finished it during bio. </p><p>I can promise that this story will come out on a more regular basis, I'm expecting about once every other week coupled with my She-ra story. </p><p>So, please don't bite my head off in the comments and please enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She rushed into her room the next day, ignoring her mother’s yelling at the racket she was making. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Locking the door behind her, Amity tossed her books onto the desk, grinning as she pressed a hand to the mirror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Alice came into view, brushing her hair aside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It worked!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She put down the hairbrush, fiddling with a tin of bobby pins. “What worked?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The translations, Principal Bump said they were the most accurate he’d ever seen considering what they already knew with the book’s history and where and when it was written. He’s not entirely convinced, but he was impressed. With me! A member of the emperor’s coven was impressed with me. That hasn’t happened since what happened at the covention!” She paused mid squeal, noticing Alice’s continued primping. “I’ve been talking too long, haven’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Alice gave her a preoccupied smile, “I’m glad you had a good day, I’m just a bit distracted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her excitement deflated. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing like that,” She noticed her expression, “I just got back from fixing something Dodie did which was a lot messier and even more on fire than expected, and I’m meeting some friends in a bit.” Satisfied with her appearance, she turned to Amity grinning. “Were you able to bring the book?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but,” she pulled a couple sheets of paper out of a book, “he wanted me to translate these while they consider the ‘authenticity of my source.’” Taping them to the mirror, she went to open another. “Do you have any sort of identification I can give them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” Alice glanced around awkwardly before she snatched a worn, leatherbound notebook off her desk and propped it against her own mirror. “If they have any idea what they’re actually talking about, these will give me all the authenticity they need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity’s eyes flitted on the symbols and back to her page, copying down a pair of circles, one filled almost to bursting with a tree, its leaves seeming to protest against their circular prison, and the other-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s the other one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wings,” Alice slid to the floor, pointing out the specifics, “below the diadem, underneath her family’s marking, the weird squiggle thing. It’s really dramatic, but so’s she.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She?” Amity looked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tatania, my sponsor. I wasn’t fae-born so I’m a blessed faerie. Biologically, I’m at least half human. Humans aren’t traditionally gifted with magical abilities, besides some witches that is.” Pulling open a screen, she typed rapidly. “I've actually been wondering if some aspects of your witch culture had faerie related origins. A bunch of physical traits are similar, along with some glyphs.” Turning the screen to face the mirror, she pointed excitedly. “See? They’re exactly the same.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity regarded her with wide eyes. “How do you know about my witch culture?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Alice winced, “that probably sounded stalkerish. I’m not a psychopath, I just googled your name and figured out which reality you’re in. I wanted to see if it’d be safe to teach you any of my spells. I promise you, it was just to look at the conditions of the Boiling Isles.” She stopped, finger mid-gesture. “Now I’ve been talking too long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.” She gave a shy smile. “I didn’t think you were that interested, or lived somewhere that wasn’t the human world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice shrugged. “I live in a human world, just not yours.” She let out a shaky breath. “Where I live, there’s no 'other world.’ Most of the books I have were written before it was all lost.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Amity paused, concerned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What else could have happened? Some power hungry bastard tried to become immortal and ended up destroying his reality and most of the people with it for good measure.” She laughed humorlessly. “I might as well tell you, you’ll know in a few minutes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean I’ll know in a few minutes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The pages.” Alice gestured vaguely. “Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>principal</span>
  </em>
  <span> chose what I assume to be the last two pages of the book. The last two pages of any history of the fae.” She taped her own translations to the mirror. “You'll read them eventually, at least you can ask me questions about it here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity read the head of the page:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The End of Days </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Note from other translations that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>makes me add: Due to the nature of the Fae language, it is unclear how </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her Majesty’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>name is spelled. The most common variations are Titania and Tatania, but various other iterations include Tetania, Totania, and, most unusually, Tutania. The confusion is due to the fact that Fae is a primarily oral language, and as the first syllable of Titania (or any of its other spellings) is extremely short, the difference in vowel doesn’t affect how it sounds. As they all sound the same, there has never been much effort put into discerning which spelling is the original. However, because sound is so important in Fae, everyone knows how </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her Majesty’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> name is pronounced. No matter how you spell it, if you go around pronouncing it “TEEtania” or “TAYtania,” you're going to get some very strange looks. For the purposes of convenience, I’m just going to use the Titania spelling--it is the most standard (just beating out Tatania in terms of popularity--</span>
  <em>
    <span>dammit Shakespeare</span>
  </em>
  <span>).)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so it was that Queen Titania ascended the throne. At the time of her coronation, she was newly married to King Oberon, a young male possessed of great intelligence, great charm, and even greater birthright. The first years of their marriage were blissful. Titania was a fair and disciplined queen, and the Fae flourished under her, but before long, Oberon was touched by the winds of jealousy that blew rapidly up from the humid South, and he began to resent his queen. Her dignified composure that had, at one point, robbed his tongue of civilized speech, now seemed to him like arrogance, and he discovered that his tongue longed to form words that would hurt and tear. Her steady benevolence, so unmoved by baseless flattery, which had once moved him to propose, now seemed like icey indifference, and he dreamed of the day when he would rip the ring from her finger and ease it onto his own. Her laugh, which sounded beautiful but never came easily- the very same laugh that he had once delighted in hearing- now tempted him to snarl and cover his pointed ears, and he knew that he had been foolish to ever try to coax it from her. All the things he had once enjoyed became intolerable to him, and he found that he did not love her anymore. The fog of jealousy filled his brain and he found himself distancing himself from her, but cutting closer to the power she exercised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now our Lady was not one of complete foolishness, being trained in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>(I have no freaking clue what this means)</span>
  </em>
  <span> that holds the grimoire, the sorceresses, and the magic of the fae. She was brought up in the worlds of diplomacy, yet shielded from the pain and suffering her innocence could provide. Young and naive, when Oberon displeased her, his eyes grating over those with whom she called dear, she grew curt and cold, confident of her own power. This led to the terrible storms that would wrack the forest, brought out of balance by their anger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Titania knew of the importance of balance, her control meant to provide for it and her powers imbued in it, yet she would not allow her husband to make a fool or husk of her, bending to his will. Their tensions only grew when she discovered herself unable to bear a child, the first sign of the evils to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After hearing of her barren misfortune, Oberon turned away, instead devoting his time to those with whom he could profit from, those who would not dare to refuse him. Titania similarly, unaware of the powers that could come from his ignorance, turned to her devoted and enjoyed life without the company of her husband. Jagged edges grew in their relationship, their wills hardening into stone, but, strangely enough to the discomfort of Oberon, the forest began to adapt, healing itself with the happiness of the queen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The forest, the projection of his people, the balance he was supposed to protect as her consort, was no longer in requiring him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fixed his eyes on Titania’s favorite, the woman who, though of no fae origin, was seeming to replace him. Her noble valor of </span>
  <em>
    <span>(again, no clue what this means)</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the house of </span>
  <em>
    <span>(what the hell is this symbol??)</span>
  </em>
  <span> stood a testament to the closeness of the Queen’s rule as she began to tear away at the boundaries they had created so long ago out of fear; providing doorways of those who needs must wander through for a haven while providing her own people with the escape they may so require--if only for a little while. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Titania and her maids spent the nights in the dance, the ancient spells and ancient songs falling off of their tongues with ease, something Oberon himself could not complete. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was one night when he approached, returning after being sent away that he did return, he did begin to enact a revenge. No longer was he content with the empty freedom and empty power he held, content only with the power he could not obtain. He confronted his wife yet again after three quarters of a year had passed, the woman who he had thought could replace him gone, her child all that was left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Titania had taken the child before it could be found, switched with a changeling for the last reminder of one she had loved so dearly. She held the babe with all the care of a mother, hiding it from her husband as long as she could. Never christened, it stayed in her bower, surrounded by all her joys and all the joys she could provide it. Taken from one whose mother had been human, she went about to make it her heir.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Note: faeries don’t have to make a big thing about giving birth to kids for it to be their own--kinda like the mandalorians .  A  faerie queen could choose her own heir as long as it held the power of the line or an incredible power of a different nature, which you’ll see in a second).</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A blessed faerie is rare and powerful, one who skirts the line between  realms, taking on the power of their sponsor, channeling their abilities and gifts. While not as powerful through spells and those rituals that decree a pure bloodline, a blessed faerie is one who may become fae, fear iron and find their tongue constricted to the truth, while still remaining present, their humanity remaining. A strong connection had to be forged, for only one sponsor could hold a single  blessed faerie at a time, weakened by the struggle of sharing their power.  Most fae were too proud to think of sharing their abilities with that of a mortal, but Titania set out to make the child one of her own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This troubled Oberon, who saw the child as a threat to his power. Not of the royal blood that had held the ancient origins, the strongest illusions that could bend into reality, he would find himself the subject of a child if Titania were to fall, not their king, but another to bow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his anger, he called for that of which words could not describe, a flower of impossible abilities. If nectar of the mystical plant entered the eyes whilst they slept, whoever contained it would fall in love with the first being they were to see. He sent his minion, Robin Goodfellow </span>
  <em>
    <span>(call him Puck, don't dignify it!)</span>
  </em>
  <span> to obtain such a remedy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During this time, Titania had feared much the same. Her husband had come, repeatedly demanding the child (with whom he thought was a boy). She feared he would incapacitate her, destroy her in a way that would leave her defenseless against him. That child, did she hide, using old spells from a time long ago, when reality had just begun to wind itself together. She then let herself be taken under, her love for an ass and then for Oberon control her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, he had not planned for the deep magic within her, the part of herself that fought his chosen decisions, the reality he so cruelly twisted with no care for the balance. The flower did alter her mind, sending her spirit away in hiding in her last note of sanity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thus, the Other World, World of Fae and Magic, World of Mysteries Beyond Understanding was without a ruler. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oberon ascended the throne, few knowing the lengths he had taken to achieve it. His dealings with the human world became more clear, trading stories with Bards and roaming the human wood until those in their world saw them as monsters, demons, creations of hell itself. He found himself waning in the later years, his scholarly never achieving that of Titania's with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>(Again, I have no freaking clue what this means)</span>
  </em>
  <span> that holds the grimoire, the sorceresses, and the magic of the fae. He knew some, but cared nothing for the balance. He, himself, was unable to create her magic, and thus, found himself limited. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Refusing to allow himself to be beaten and exiled from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>(WHY DOES THIS NAME KEEP COMING UP? I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE)</span>
  </em>
  <span> that holds the grimoire, the sorceresses, and the magic of the fae after the death of Titania, he poured into old texts, those that should not have entered the world of magic, stripping power for the magic it could provide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In doing so, he grew mad with power, stretching his time until he found himself on the edge of death. In one, dangerous, incantation, he exhausted his supply, the film surrounding the Other World that had been fragmenting for so long, the balance he had so cavalierly ignored shattered, leaving the rest of the world to fall with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some escaped, fell into the human world, hiding or suppressing their magic, few able to write the final stories, lost, separated from their people, their grandeur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And thus, that was the end of days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice looked up from her book. “Did you finish?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity nodded shakily. “It’s all gone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything.” Alice brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I’m one of the few left.” Her eyes returned to the page.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why is she sponsoring you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here,” she pointed to a line, “to create a blessed faerie, their sponsor is directly tied, their power depleted. If her tie is tenuous enough, wouldn’t she want to save her power? Are you a test subject, or?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A test subject.” she gave a forced smile, painfully robotic. “Yeah.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An awkward pause settled between them, broken by a sound from Alice’s phone. She checked it, grimacing. “It’s Adam. Caleb just finished football practice, and they need me to pick them up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Amity tried to keep her voice steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure.” She smiled in a way that didn’t reach her eyes, winking at her half heartedly as she left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity’s eyes fell back onto the page.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was she hiding?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Let me know what you think! Comments literally make my day and in the middle of a pandemic, any happiness is awesome. </p><p>(as much as I would like to, I have to have an actual life instead of just getting serotonin from John Mulaney, Taylor Swift, and The Daily Show with Trevor Noah). </p><p>This is a story that I care about and I'm going to be spending a bunch of time on, so let me know if you have any suggestions or questions.</p><p>Also, if you want, I could probably post the next chapter earlier as an apology. 🥰</p><p>Stay safe, be kind to yourself, and wear a mask!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Point to be On Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An interesting phone call. </p><p>A brand new kind of fight. </p><p>More omissions and more confusion</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I realize that I have like nine chapters of this written, so that should be able to bypass my 2 to 3 really intense weeks coming up to the point that I should be able to update this WEEKLY!</p><p>(Also, chapters are kind of short and I don't want to be cruel you). </p><p>At least not yet.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day Amity touched the glass, revealing Alice as she paced in and out of view with a call in a fluffy bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her head. </p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t happen to mention that the damn thing exploded!” She let off a string of curses in an oddly musical language. “And that it had goo. Green goo, Jack.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t sure, besides, you said to let you know if there was anything that could be potentially harmful.” The masculine voice bounced as the pocket of her robe swayed back and forth.</p><p> </p><p>She ignored him. “It wasn’t even clear, okay? There were chunks of god knows what that I’ve been trying to get off my skin and out of my mouth for that past hour.”</p><p> </p><p>“What were you expecting? I told you it was blobby.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was prepared for something out of that god-awful 1958 movie Clint made be watch, not something out of ghostbusters.” She re-emerged in a pair of jeans and a black and white sweatshirt. “There’s a tactical difference.”</p><p> </p><p>She heard a scoff on the other end. “Is there?”</p><p> </p><p>“All I know is that I came unprepared for a pissed off,” she waved her hands around, searching for the word, “<em> thing </em> in the alley behind a Subway that <em> literally </em> blew up in my face.” Grabbing a pair of socks out of view, she put them on angrily. “You couldn't have handled that yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>“We had a bit of a thing going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“That thing had better have been earth-threatening after what I’ve been through,” letting her hair fall out of the towel, she angrily began brushing it, “I would’ve rather been stabbed again.”</p><p> </p><p>He scoffed and Amity could almost hear him roll his eyes. “Of course you bring <em> that </em> up. I’ve been apologizing for centuries.”</p><p> </p><p>“Might be centuries for you, but just been a few months for me.” </p><p> </p><p>“And you haven’t healed yet?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not the point, Harkness.” Tossing the brush onto her bed, she grabbed a hair tie and began messily pulling her hair up. “I’ve got homework and I want to get some of it done before I meet Gwen and-”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” the voice gave off a teasing lilt, “how is Gwen, by the way? Venomous yet?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know what?” Alice hung up, muttering about ungrateful immortals before realizing Amity’s face in the mirror. “Hey, kid!”</p><p> </p><p>Amity stared at her, eyes round in confused awe. “What was that?”</p><p> </p><p>“That was Jack, he’s kinda family and also kinda a huge prick.” Satisfied with her ponytail, she smirked. “Are you excited for the weekend?”</p><p> </p><p>Amity’s expression remained unwavering. “Were you in a fight?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Alice shrugged, picking out a pair of hoop earrings from a wall of assorted jewelry, “nothing big, though, just a pain to clean up after. Blood might’ve been preferable, honestly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you fight a lot?” Amity eased herself into her chair in a feeble attempt for a semblance of comfort, eyes landing on an Azura book that had fallen off her bookshelf. “Was it a magic duel, or?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hybrid,” Alice collapsed onto her bed, pushing aside a few pillows and a wall of stuffed animals, an unlucky turtle careening onto the floor. “Innate magic, at least faerie magic comes with a price and spells take time, so a little bit of everything is the healthiest.” She grinned. “And the most fun.” </p><p> </p><p>“So it’s normal?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my job,” she leaned her head off of the bed’s edge, smirking at Amity upside down, “I don’t like violence, but sometimes it’s the best option I have.” She glared at the ceiling. “Especially when they shoot at me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your job?” The question came tentatively, almost worriedly.</p><p> </p><p>“You know how we live in separate worlds? There’s a bunch of them, different realities.” She made weak jazz hands. “I travel in between the different realities and get rid of stuff that comes from mother realities and could be dangerous. I don’t kill them--or even fight if I can. Normally, I just get them back to their home.” </p><p> </p><p>“How do you know where to go?”</p><p> </p><p>“The council tells me.” She slowly slid off the bed, traipsing over to her desk. “I have friends--friends is the wrong word. I have people who happen to tolerate my existence that monitor the different energies that come and go. The energy and frequency stuff is unique to each reality, so I know where the hell stuff went to and where the hell they need to get back. It’s not the most glamorous job, but I’m decent at it.”</p><p> </p><p>Her brow furrowed. “You don’t like it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh,” Alice shrugged, opening up a laptop. “It can be fun and it can suck. I honestly don’t know how to describe it. It’s what is expected of me. You know what that’s like.”</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely.” Amity grimaced. “Your parents have expectations too?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have parents. They’re dead.” The sentence came bluntly, typing stopping for a moment. “And it’s not my parental guardians, it’s my sponsor.” She turned back to her work, unnerved.</p><p> </p><p>Amity’s eyes darted back and forth before awkwardly breaking the silence. “I’m sorry, about your parents. I know it doesn’t help but-”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Alice’s smile was kinder, her expression softening. “It was a long time ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t make it any less painful.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was a really long time ago, Amity.” She met her gaze, her own indecisive eyes holding a sort of lost despair. Blinking away heartache, she brightened. “Do you want my help with anything, kid?”</p><p> </p><p>Surprised at her change of tone, Amity paused. “Don’t you have homework?” </p><p> </p><p>“I do, but most of it isn’t due for a couple weeks and Gwen’s going to help me slog through Kant. Seriously,” sadness hung behind her smile, “anything I can do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, they’re still going over the translations, but-” Amity looked around her pile of work, gaze finally landing on a particularly hefty volume. Holding it up to the mirror, she gave a shaky smile. “I’ve got this test coming up on plant magic, and it’s not my strongest subject. Do you think you could help? I don't know if you do anything with it but--”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course!” Alice grinned, sliding off her desk chair onto the ground. “I’m pretty good at that sort of thing, plants really like me.” She pulled her mirror over, squinting at the text. “What type are we looking at, exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>Amity launched into a detailed explanation of the intricacies of the specific spell, causing Alice’s grin to widen as she excitedly explained her own experience with the type of spells. It wasn’t until an hour later, when Alice had left for dinner with Gwen that she recalled the tenuous subject. </p><p> </p><p>Alice was hiding something.</p><p> </p><p>She just wasn’t sure what.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and kudos would be fabulous! (I have no idea if anyone is actually reading this or if anyone actually likes this, so some validation might be nice so I know what's going on). </p><p>Feel free to ask questions or give suggestions. I love the show and have a lot in planning for the future of this story. ;)</p><p>Stay safe, wear a mask, and be kind to yourself!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ask me how I'm doing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A rough day. </p><p>An ice monster.</p><p>And a new type of calling.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To be completely honest, Amity wasn’t expecting to see Alice when she pressed her hand to the mirror late the next afternoon. Emira and Edric had been even more protective on the way home from the Knee, despite the fact they were the ones almost eaten. She thanked whatever gods existed that they hadn’t mentioned it to their parents, instead slipping past their argument into the kitchen for tea, holding their praise until they were out of ear shot. </p><p> </p><p>Blanket wrapped around her and mug in hand, Amity crept as close to the mirror as she could without letting in the cold, hand warming for a moment as Alice appeared in view.</p><p> </p><p>If Amity was cold already, looking at Alice didn’t help. The older girl had on a dark pair of shorts and a sports bra, hands wrapped in a sort of tape. Muttering to herself, she began to peel it from her fingers, nursing a few bruises.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened to you?” </p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” Curling her fist into a fighting stance, she surveyed the room. Eyes landing on Amity, she smacked herself in the forehead. “Of course it’s you, sorry I’m really tired.”</p><p> </p><p>Amity’s gaze didn’t flinch. “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing really.” Alice shrugged, letting her shoulders sag wearily. “I got catcalled on my way back from rehearsal so I took my anger out on a speed bag on top of normal training. I’ve been in the basement for the past two hours and god, am I tired.” Slumping down the side of her bed, she pulled the same black and white sweatshirt over her, slipping her arms into the sleeves. “You seem off, is everything okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh,” Amity sighed, slumping against her own bed. Cocking her head to the side, she paused her tirade of exhaustion. “What’s bad about someone calling you a cat?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You said you were catcalled,” drawing her blanket around her, Amity leaned forward, resting her head on her knees. “What’s bad about being called a cat?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know what catcalling is, do you?” She shook her head. “It’s when random guys on the street sexually harass you, you know. They’ll get this idea in their tiny pathetic brains that they have a right to dominate random women, virtually humiliating them in public by singling out how much they want to have sex with them, not always consensually.” She noted Amity’s confused face. “It's when a guy makes a derogatory remark at a girl, normally about specific aspects of the girl’s…biology.” She gestured to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>Amity’s lip curled in disgust, tea ignored in her hands. “They can just do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“And it’s generally frowned upon to stab them in retribution.” Alice sighed, leaning her head onto her interlaced fingers. “I got in a hell of trouble after what happened with Dodie.”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” Amity scooted closer.</p><p> </p><p>“Dodie’s a friend,” Alice smirked at the memory, “Her full name is Rhododendron and she hates it, which is why everyone calls her Dodie. She's a year younger than me and when we were in middle school, God,” she paused, “I was about your age at the time. Anyway, we were walking down the hall and some guy started talking about her skirt in a creepy way and how tight her clothes fit and all that BS. Last time this happened, she’d gotten in trouble with the principal for chewing the guy out, so I told her to ignore it. The prick clearly couldn’t just back off, and tried to grab her arm. As soon as he touched her, I grabbed his neck, slammed him against the locker, and stabbed him in the arm with a mechanical pencil.” She smiled with almost menacing pride. “I got suspended for two weeks, and he got a scar. His parents would've pressed charges if it hadn’t been taken care of by a bandaid and Nat staring daggers at the principal while Clint went on a rant about the injustices women face in our patriarchal society.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that worked?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yep!” She grinned brightly, drawing her knees to her chest. “How was your day?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Amity brushed a strand of hair out of her face, “after the whole library incident, Edric and Emira have been super over-protective and-”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” Alice cut her off, “what library incident?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” she bit her lip, “It happened last week, right before you showed up.”</p><p> </p><p>~~~</p><p> </p><p>“So this monster, was it a yeti?” Alice had abandoned any attempt of sitting, contemplatively laying on the ground, throwing a neon pink stress ball in the air as she listened. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Amity noticed her face fall, “would it have been okay if it was?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I just like yetis.” She rolled onto her side. “Do you have yetis, by any chance and if so, have you ever touched one?”</p><p> </p><p>Amity rested her chin on a fist. “Not that I know of, so no.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s something on my bucket list.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is?” Amity raised her eyebrows.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” her eyes danced playfully, “to not touch a yeti.” </p><p> </p><p>“Is that a reference?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep,” Alice turned to face her ceiling and began tossing the ball again, “Mean Girls. One of these days, I’m going to have to give you a crash course on human culture. It’s honestly sad the little witches know of humans.”</p><p> </p><p>She glared. “It’s not that sad and it’s not like humans are much better anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alice missed the ball, wincing as it hit her in the forehead, “we have intense scientific study on almost everything we can get our hands on.” She grimaced. “Not everyone actually believes in it, but it’s there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Another undercut jab on American politics and society?” She rolled her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Alice snapped into finger guns. “Hell yeah! Though, in all fairness, it’s not just us.”</p><p> </p><p>“That's,” she paused, “disappointing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely,” Alice smirk faltered for a moment, eyes beginning to widen, “oh no.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” Amity snapped to attention. “Is everything okay?”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to go, there’s a decent chance Clint set something on fire.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who's Clint?”</p><p> </p><p>“My male parental guardian, Nat’s on call today, and they get extra skittish when the other one isn’t there.” A small, private smile spread across the corners of her face. “I love him, but he is beyond easily distracted.”</p><p> </p><p>Amity gave an awkward salute. “See you later, then?</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” she saluted back before ducking out the door. “See you later!"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you want another chapter this week, just bug me about it in the comments (they're pretty short and I have like 10 written so I want to motivate myself to write more). Also, next chapter is when things really start to begin 😉</p><p>Just bug me about it because it's *tech week* which means my life is theatre, eggs, and sleep until we film everything. </p><p>Stay safe, be kind to yourself, and wear a mask!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. What did I do?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just you wait. . .</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I got bored and this is a fun chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Two weeks later, Amity slammed the door behind her siblings, seething as she heard mocking laughter waltz down the hall. As their arrogant steps receded, she gave her room a cursory once over. While it wouldn’t occur to some that the space had been violated, a glance towards her desk revealed a stack of jammed drawers, closed too quickly to have their contents accurately stowed away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d been looking for something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tossing the pile of books she’d been carrying onto her bed, she readjusted the drawers, trying to take inventory for whatever could’ve been missing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was no use, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew exactly what they’d been trying to find. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As normal, Alice wasn’t startled when she touched the glass (hit it, more like it). Abnormally, she was alone and surprisingly human in appearance. Hair pulled into a loose braid, thin strands floated around her face, defying gravity with their flyaway appearance. The tiara, rose colored again, balanced a pair of thick glasses just above the crowning gem, seemingly seconds from toppling over. Despite this, she remained perfectly focused on her bed, book balanced against her knees, pencil between her teeth. “Remind me to never live in Salem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bet it’d be better than the Boiling Isles.” She glared at the chipped paint on a drawer’s edge, Edric’s doing most likely. He wasn’t the best at careful observation and reconnaissance, especially when compared to Emira. “Are there psychopath siblings?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not exactly,” Alice shrugged, “just a whole lot of repressed emotions without a healthy outlet or any knowledge to deal with them, and church sanctioned murder.” After getting no response, she tossed the book onto the bed, its cover showing a pale, desperate woman over the words ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Crucible’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “And I thought that they were being nice for once.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was weeks ago,” satisfied with her desk, she came into the mirror’s view, slumping against her bed, “and I’ve done something to annoy them since then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You,” she gestured vaguely, “Bump came up to me in the library with more pages to translate and they wouldn’t leave it alone. Apparently, skipping school hasn’t been great for their grades and they needed some extra credit. When I wouldn’t tell them, they ran home and locked me out of my room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice’s expression had slowly been darkening, by the end, she was positively frigid. “Do you want me to stab them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pulled a dagger from the underside of her headboard. “Do you want me to stab them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where did you get that?” Amity’s eyes searched the rest of her room. “Do you have weapons hidden in your room or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All over the house, Nat was able to hide a grenade in the second floor shower.” Snatching a different knife from the bottom of her “Marilyn” frame she grinned. “And I know I said I probably won’t be able to get to you, but if your siblings are being awful, that’s another story. To quote Adrian Pimento: ‘I don’t fight kids, that’s a rule. But that rule can be negotiated if the kid’s a dick.” Another knife appeared in her hand. “Do you need my help?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I can handle it.” Amity bit back a smile. “Pop culture reference?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “You are ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Definitely!” Alice winked. “I’ve been described as ridiculous, along with incorrigible, organized, disgraceful, and a walking disaster.” Her nose wrinkled. “The ‘organized’ is really messing with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is accurate, though. You’re pretty organized.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she held a hand to her mouth in mock offense, “not everyone needs to know that. I have a bad girl reputation to uphold.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does this bad girl reputation include the mountain of stuffed animals?” Amity smirked, feeling her aggression loosen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” grabbing a sloth off her pile, she held it proudly, “how else do I obtain an army of darkness? Not all of us can create abominables out of thin air.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Abominations,” she rolled her eyes, “they’re not yetis.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately,” she huffed. “It’d be much better if they were.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you’d still be able to uphold your bucket list and not touch a yeti. Reference or not, it’s dumb.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Alice shrugged and tossed the sloth to the side. “However, it is distracting enough for you, you’ve relaxed since we stopped talking about Fred and George-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Edric and Emira-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Same difference.” She bit her lip. “Do you want to talk about what they did?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity’s demeanor immediately became guarded. “It’s just what happens with families. Everything has a cost, good or bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this what it’s like for your friends?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t talk about that sort of thing.” Her expression remained steely. “Why do you even care?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re a good person and I care about your mental health.” Alice sat up, her brow creased. “And that’s not how my, or any other family I know works.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s just different here.” Stomping over to her desk, she pulled the top three books off the pile, the top revealing the title </span>
  <em>
    <span>Faerie Histories and Characteristics</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “And if you care about me so much, why did you lie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Her brow furrowed as she read the phrase. “When did I lie? Amity, you know I can’t lie, I physically cannot lie--it’s not possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Omission is a form of lying,” Still glaring, she slammed the small stack onto the floor in front of her. “You’re the changeling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice immediately paled. “How did you know that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s obvious enough any idiot could catch it.” Her voice took on a familiar icy tone, the same she’d used with Willow, Luz, and all the others. Alice had clearly been taken aback, eyes roaming her face for any signs of warmth. “When Titania sent herself into the mirror, any connection with the mortal physical world was nonexistent, it said so in the book. According to the rules, the only way she could sponsor someone would require them to have a previous connection, almost everyone else was killed, and you said she doesn’t like new people. So, if you actually cared why wouldn’t you tell me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” Alice paused, breath hitching, “I didn’t tell you because I was worried it could be dangerous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity’s glare only deepened “You thought I’d turn you in? Thought I’d use my witch magic to get to you? So I could say I’d caught the final royal of the fae?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a stagnant pause before Alice let out a humorless laugh</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know,” she shook her head, eyes filled with jaded pity, “I thought you know me better by now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time Amity was the one taken aback. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even try to hide it, kid.” She smirked harshly, her eyes emotionless. “I don’t give a damn about my own safety.” Pointing to the pile, she continued. “You've done some research, so I’d assume you know the cost to have faerie abilities. It’s equilibrium. If I don't do enough or I do too much, I relive something embarrassing or painful as a way of punishing arrogance. Except, I don’t use my own power, so I don’t get my own feedback.” Nails dug into her palms. “If I use it too much or if I don’t use it at all, the equilibrium is out of balance. To make matters even better, what’s considered too much changes depending on the balance or whatever, so normally, I get to relive her worst traumas no matter what happens. When they first started, I was eleven and I didn’t sleep for three days. That didn’t last long, because it turns out if I don’t sleep, they just happen while I’m awake. Titania might’ve been the most powerful one to ‘survive’ but she also happened to have an abusive husband. If anyone came for me tomorrow I’d fight them, but I wouldn’t fight them for me. It turns out that, for some ungodly reason, there are people who happen to tolerate my existence enough that they’d get relatively upset if I died. You are one of those people, Blight. The less you knew about who I really was, the safer you’d be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How?” Her mind raced, trying to understand what Alice had just said. “How is this about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> safety? You’re the one they’d go after.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” she scoffed, “The highest levels of your government barely understand the human world much less how to easily get there. The only portal is owned by the Owl Lady and that isn't to my human world that's to a different human world. However, you are much more easily accessible and if you can't get something, you get something to come to you. Amity, you are an incredibly talented witch, but they have an entire school full of talented witches. While none are at your skill level, you are the only one who is able to somehow translate a text they've been trying to translate for 400 years. Your principal also happens to be a member of the Emperor’s coven.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She continued. “When doing some research on the Boiling Isles I discovered that your emperor seized power through fear after a time of unrest and continues to limit the abilities of those who are not his personal lackeys, only allowing those who support him undoubtedly to access their full powers. Do you want to know why the Owl Lady is the strongest witch on the boiling isles? She's not in a coven. There's a chance if you protested enough, they’d force it out of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But,” Alice shrugged wistfully, “if you were just a kid that didn’t know much, they wouldn’t need to go there. It’d be a fluke, a mistake, and they’d leave you alone. Information makes you different, and this isn’t a way that you want to be different.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think the translation is that important?” Drawing her knees up to her chest, Amity kept her expression guarded. “You said it yourself, it’s just history.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was wrong, it’s not just a history,” Alice held up a piece of paper, the first translation she’d given, now marked in red. “It’s a cipher, a cipher with hidden spells.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments would be amazing!</p><p>(I legitimately have no clue if anyone's reading this, so if you got this far, please let ,e know). </p><p>Wear a mask, be kind to yourself, and eat eggs!</p><p>(Sorry, tech week brain. The musical has consumed my thoughts).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. As Far As I've Gotten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What does that mean?” Amity could feel her voice waver, passing through trembling lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It means I’ve been giving potent spells to an evil empire intent on subjugation.” Taping another two pages to the mirror, she grimaced. “They wanted the final two pages of the book because it had a petrification spell inside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Petrification?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How to enchant an object to petrify, specifically.” Alice swore. “I should have seen it, checked it, done something before further weaponizing fascists.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scanned the documents taped to the mirror. “How did you figure it out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was a lot sloppier with the last two pages, seeing as they had to fit an entire spell into two pages instead of more. I showed it to Nat and she recognized it. Blair also reads fae and the three of us were able to decipher it.” She shook her head. “From the samples we had, they’re not normal spells, they're unauthorized.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can a spell be unauthorized?” Amity’s eyes remained fixed on the mirror. “Are there licenses?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” she hefted a large, leather covered volume from out of sight, “It's just that every spell in recorded history is a part of the Grimoire.” Pulling another stack of tomes into the frame, she continued. “All spells entered into the Grimoire directly after creation, meaning all subsequent spellbooks and lesser grimoires were copied out of the original. I have here the main thousand or so spells that made up 90% of all copies." She hefted another pile into view. "If a spell wasn't in the Grimoire, it would have had to be hidden by some pretty powerful dark magic. The petrification spell was one of those.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did they fit all the spells into something that small?” Alice’s pile towered over the original book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “It’s enchanted, I guess. Could even be infinite for all I know, that’s not important.” Jabbing a finger at the pages taped to the mirror, she glared. “What is important is how the hell some of the most dangerous spells in it ended up in a coded history book and subsequently, in the hands of evil.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The emperor isn’t evil.” Amity glared. “He created order out of chaos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which he rules with an iron fist.” Alice deadpanned. “Look, your main leader rules out of fear, limits the abilities of his people, refuses anyone the right to protest (or even be weird, for that matter), and claims to be able to talk to a primordial deity. If he wasn't evil, why would he need all that? Where’s his proof? I mean, I’m Catholic, but there’s a definite need to divide church and state. You can't let the religious beliefs of the few control the lives of everyone else. The dude has ‘cult leader’ written all over him, which is why you need to be especially careful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No-wait,” she paused. “Why would I need to be careful?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because of supply and demand.” Alice shrugged, tiara refracting the late afternoon light as it spilled across the room. “The supply of translators is low, making the demand high. The supply of witches, even talented ones, is high, lowering the demand. When the two clash, whatever they have the higher demand for is chosen. In this case, that could potentially endanger you. It’s capitalism really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Except it’s dangerous, I could die.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, so capitalism.” She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “In the beginning they’ll probably try to bribe you, letting you get away with breaking some rules, rewarding you for little or nothing at all, etc. If that doesn’t work, they’ll try to coerce you, which is where it really gets manipulative. They’ll guilt you, inconvenience you, try to make your life unnecessarily challenging, especially through your grades.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Concern crossed Amity’s face. “How could they go after my grades?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s obvious, isn't it?” After getting no response, Alice continued. “If they were really devious, they’d go after your friends, but you don’t seem to actually like anyone but Luz and she’s protected by the most powerful witch on the Isle who’s already made it a habit of defying authority. Besides that, everything else you deem important in your life stems from your grades and sense of scholarly superiority. You’re getting this directly to your school, the place where those grades come from. It’d be their strongest play overall. If that didn’t work, then they’d probably confront your parents.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My parents?” Color drained from her face, now white with fear. “You think they’d go to my parents?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As an absolute last resort.” Alice reassured. “Your parents are in a closer proximity to you and have a stronger hold, both physically and emotionally. There’d be the chance that they’d try to take control and that’s the opposite of what they’d want.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right about taking control.” She glared at the ground. “That’s exactly what they’d do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you need to be careful. Worst comes to worst, let me know and get somewhere safe to hide. You have that space in the library, right? If everything gets too bad, hide there and get Luz or your siblings to get you food. It shouldn’t come to that, but just in case something happens, it’s good to have a plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you mean by ‘everything else I deem important stems from my grades and sense of scholarly superiority?” Amity raised her gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Alice shrugged, “you’re kind of ‘Little Miss Perfect.’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you’re the top student, a little obsessively so.” She put her hands up in surrender at Amity’s glare. “It’s just an observation, but you did chase down Luz and Willow with a bloody vengeance for cheating. From the few weeks I’ve known you, you put intense amounts of pressure on yourself to be the best at absolutely everything you do. If you force yourself to get perfect grades and act perfectly all the time, you put yourself on a pedestal. You’re a person, Amity, not a statue. People crack.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like it matters,” turning to hide her face from view, Amity drew her knees up to her chest, “I work hard, I’m good at school.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when you struggle?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I work harder. I don’t fail.” Her scowl deepened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I’m talking about. You put too much pressure on yourself, Ames.” Sympathy seeped from her expression. “If you expect to be perfectly successful at everything, you’re not going to know how to deal with failure and you’re going to fail at some point. If you don’t create the proper coping techniques, you’ll define yourself as the de facto ‘smart kid’ and will have an existential crisis when you find yourself out of your depth and no longer the smartest person in the room, or when you get a less than satisfactory grade and spend the next hour crying in your closet listening to Wicked at the maximum volume.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity blinked. “That’s specific.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice rolled her eyes, trying to disguise her vulnerability. “All I’m saying is that if you define yourself by one trait, especially one that you don’t have complete control over, you’re not going to know what to do when that one trait no longer applies. Bad things happen when people, girls especially, put too much pressure on themselves this way. When you can’t process your emotions, it’s like Salem.” She waved the book she’d been reading in front of the mirror. “If you force yourself to be a perfect statue, you keep your emotions pent up and they explode.” Alice paused, blinking back tears. “And when you don’t have control over anything in your environment, you implode instead.” She let out a shaky breath, mouth pulled into a tight line. “Just consider it, okay? I know what it’s like, and I know how bad it can get.” She winced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Tentatively, Amity faced the mirror, watching as Alice’s shoulders sagged heavily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clint just set something on fire again, I can smell the smoke.” <br/></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess you’ll have to go.” She smiled weakly, eyes still hollow.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Alice mirrored her expression, “I’ll see you later, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Amity watched as she shut the door behind her, “later.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What'd you think?</p><p>I know this is kinda short (as they all are), but I'll probably post another later in the week.</p><p>Feel free to bug me if I forget or if you want it sooner ;)</p><p>Stay safe!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Absurd Behavior</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Alice?” Hours later Amity let her fingers lightly skate across the mirror, illuminated by a shaft of moon streaming through the window. She wouldn’t even be up, there was no purpose to this, she’d just seem like a stalker, or maybe it didn’t work at night-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it, kid?” Alice rubbed sleep out of her eyes, flicking on a bedside lamp. A hazy glow flooded the room, revealing her rumpled duvet, half of her bedding spilling onto the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did I wake you up?” Amity felt the drafty chill, pulling her own blanket around her, shielding her bare feet from the cold floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s fine.” Brushing hair out of her face, she grinned sleepily. “I’m a light sleeper. Do you wanna talk about anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gulped, “I don't know- there’s just so much to think about.” She gestured to her own bed, also haplessly rumpled. “I haven’t been able to sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Alice’s nose wrinkled, still processing her own empathy, “I wanted to tell you everything, just not all at once.” She bit her lip. “I’m not very good with people, especially with sensitive subjects. I’ve been so desensitized with everything, it’s hard to remember to turn it off around people who aren’t broken disasters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What you said about ‘Little Miss Perfect,’ are you like that too?” She searched her eyes for an answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and it especially hit my first year of high school, your age.” Grimacing, Alice continued. “Turns out that going to an all girls Catholic prep school can put a lot of pressure on someone who's already naturally screwed up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The dreams?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The dreams started when I was 11,” she nodded, “they led to Dr. Bright diagnosing me with PTSD along with the buy one get one free helping of standard depression that came along later. I wasn't in any honors classes like my friends, so I just decided to be absolutely perfect at the lower level classes I had. It was stupid, but it's competitive and there can be a lot of people who hold a sense of scholarly superiority over your head.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like me,” leaning against the end of her bed, Amity mulled over the words, “you said I held a sense of scholarly superiority over other people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice sighed, leaning on her crossed legs. “I was smart and I had all these ideas and when I didn't live up to them-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-there was something wrong with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I almost didn't pass that year--not because of grades--those were perfect--they had to be perfect--but because of all the days I had to miss for my mental health. I'd beat myself up when I didn't get the assignments for the days I'd miss. Nat would actually find me crying over my keyboard and flinching at her touch.” She stopped herself, mustering a smile. “Not that I'm saying that's what's happened to you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-it has.” Amity drew her knees to her chest. “Only, no one comes to check on me. Ed and Em will, sometimes, but they don't get it. They've always been Mother’s favorite, her matching </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span> pair,” she spit the phrase out harshly, “while I'm behind. I have to work to get noticed by anyone. They don't do anything, but I'm still hiding in their shadow. Mother likes us matching, but whatever I do to match isn't good enough. And I know she doesn't actually like them, she doesn't care to see any of their deeper personalities. I mean, Edric is terrified, completely terrified, of being alone and not knowing what to do. Emira, meanwhile, can't wait to get rid of him. But, the two combined still smile and charm enough to keep themselves above scrutiny.” Her eyes remained downcast. “I'm not good with others that way. I'm not really good with people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And it's easier to be mean than nice, easier to create a shell around yourself so it doesn't matter what anyone cares because you'll hate them anyway.” Alice shrugged. “I get it. When people don't feel supported, they don't always know how to support themselves on their own. You have me, though.” She grinned. “I'm here to help you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you're creative and fun and a dork. You pretend not to care when, in reality, you care more than anyone.” Rolling her eyes, her smile grew. “I like you, Ames.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She blinked sleepily. “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Alice stuck her tongue out, “only one of us is allowed to be self deprecating and I think that right belongs to the one with the effed up brain.” She grinned as Amity yawned again. “Are you sure you're not ready to get to bed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There's no point. It's not like I'm going to sleep.” Shaking her head, she suddenly paused looking up. “How are you able to sleep with the dreams?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice smiled softly. “Audiobooks mostly. I found a really good recording of Alice in Wonderland. I know that sounds cheesy, but-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What's Alice in Wonderland?” Amity cut her off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don't know Alice in Wonderland?” Her eyes widened in horror. “What cruel world do you live in?” Pausing to show her phone screen, she grinned. “It's simply one of the two best books ever. I mean, it created the first alternate reality and is filled with hidden satirical humor and Carroll’s jabs at the political climate, hidden inside a kids book.” Her whole being seemed to glow. “It's kind of amazing. Do you want to listen to it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Alice shrugged, gesturing to her window. “You've got school tomorrow and even if you don't get to sleep, simply laying down, closing your eyes, and finding a distraction can help. Trust me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brushing a strand of hair out of her face, Amity felt her eyelids grow heavy. “Will you be here tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, love.” Alice smiled softly. Pressing a few buttons on her phone, introduction music began to gently wash over her space as Amity burrowed underneath her covers. “Goodnight, Ames.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘night, Alice.” Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes as she listened to the soft words coming from the phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, I'm trying to make these longer. At the same time, if they're shorter, then I'll be able to come out with them about twice a week like I've been doing. (I just finished tech week and I'm actually catching up to the point that I need to write more). If you have any opinions lmk.  </p><p>Also, if you read this I would LOVE to know what you think. This past week was really tough and the "Little Miss Perfect" part of my brain has been at constant war with the "dysfunctional, anxious, and depressed" part of my brain. It means there were a lot of anxiety attacks put off until I finished a particular assignment or class. (Which, according to my therapist is not a flex and neither is my "Queen of Going to School and Acting Like Nothing has Happened After a Panic Attack/Depressive Episode" brag--who'd have thought?)</p><p>Idk, I love this story and I love you all for actually reading it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. For Little Miss Perfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, Mittens!” Edric’s overly jubilant voice echoed through the hall. Crashing through her bedroom door, Amity felt a granola bar hit her in the face. “Since when do you sleep in? Em’s almost ready to leave.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grunting from underneath a pile of pillows, Amity cracked open an eye. “Is it morning?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep!” Grinning, Edric stuck his head in the hole she'd created, nose to nose with her tired expression. “And we've got school, so you better be ready to leave soon.” He winced. “Emira woke up ticked.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course she did.” Pushing the comforter off her, she sat up. “I'm up. You can leave now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Mittens,” he ruffled her hair before clattering down the hallway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head, Amity slid off, bare feet touching the cold floor. As she pulled her uniform over her head, she caught her gaze in the mirror. She’d never called Alice this early before, but after last night, it wouldn’t exactly hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room appeared in front of her, posters and all, at least she assumed it behind all the papers taped to the mirror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice had filled most of the available space with notes of encouragement. A brightly colored page in the center caught her eye first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hi Ames,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I had to leave for school (combination of test and lizard creature on the subway), but I wanted to make sure you were feeling okay!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I should be home immediately after school in case something happens (if you're having fun, don’t worry ;) I can entertain myself)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Have a great day, love!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-AM</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another note, this one pink and to the left was marked with a more hurried scrawl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-If you need to contact me-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Say: Alexa, text Alice _____</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alexa, call Alice</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes finally landed on the largest of the three, narrowly sneaking down the right-handed side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How to Survive School After a Panic Attack/Mental Breakdown/Disconcerting Revelation (taken from past experience):</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em><span>Bring a book ← mental comfort is necessary and can help de-stress</span></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Bring extra snacks/hydration ← you’re going to be extra emotional and being deprived of food and/or tea can be an easy trigger</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Pace yourself ← if you aren’t your best, don't worry. Sometimes, it’s all you can do to make it through the day to come home, collapse, and cry (while listening to Wicked at max volume, not that I know that from personal experience, or anything)</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li>
<span>REMEMBER TO BREATHE ← surprisingly important. Just know that if anyone is a jerk, </span><strike><span>Nat</span></strike><span> Alice can help you plot revenge</span>
</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good luck!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you coming, Mittens?” Edric’s voice jolted her from her trance, bag still in hand. Grimacing, she threw in the latest Azura book, giving the mirror one more small smile she stepped out into the hallway. “On my way, Edric.” Ignoring Emira’s complaining on the way to school, she went over Alice’s list in her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All she had to do was survive one day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It couldn’t be that hard, could it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turns out, the universe wasn’t ready to give her a break just yet. Fuming, Amity slammed the door behind her, curling up at the foot of her bed as soon as she’d touched the glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice soon came into view, once again wearing a pair of exercise shorts and sports bra, an overly large shirt with the words “Be fae, do crime” whipping around her as she attacked what appeared to be a model human torso attached to a base. Brushing hair out of her eyes, she grinned. “How was school, Ames?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity groaned, lowering her head into her hands. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” Pausing her despair, she looked up, eyebrows knit in a perplexed manner. “I thought you weren’t allowed to exercise in the same room as the mirror.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not, technically.” Whirling around to elbow the figure in the chest, she continued. “I'm not allowed to take the mirror to the gym in the basement because it’s two flights of stairs and there’s a lot of moving variables. I can, however, bring part of the gym to the room, as long as there’s a protection spell around the mirror so it won’t break.” Panting, she gestured to the punching bag. “I introduce you to Kevin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pop culture reference?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kicked “Kevin” again, sending him spiraling onto her bed. “Evil David Tenant. Now,” setting him back up, she turned to Amity, “what happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“School was normal, I guess.” She sighed, burying her chin even deeper into her arms. “It wasn’t the best, but it was doable. Up until I had a meeting with Lilith.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lilith?” Alice winced. “That’s definitely a heavy name. Some claimed her to be a demon, first wife of Adam, though in my eleven years of theology classes, I haven’t been able to track her origins down to a credible source.” Realizing Amity was there listening to her rambling, she blinked. “But the Lilith you’re talking about is the jerk mentor who embarrassed you because of a childhood feud with her sister.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the one.” Dragging her bag towards her, she opened one of the many books inside. “If I don't go, mother and father will know,” she paused, fear momentarily gripping her, “but it’s not like anything we’re doing is helping me. I’m not getting any stronger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you need to get stronger?” Alice righted Kevin, face filled with unmistakable concern. “I thought you were at the top of your class?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am, but only because I can memorize well. Lilith thinks I’m not accessing my full potential. I mean, when you look at Willow, or-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope!” Her remark was cut off by kicking Kevin again. “Comparing yourself to other people isn’t healthy. What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to do to make yourself stronger?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the point, I don't know! I’m strong enough for now, but I’m not improving. Even Lilith’s running out of ideas.” She shoved the book to the mirror. “I’m just supposed to go back to the origin until I improve.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice shrugged, letting Kevin wobble as she stepped closer to the mirror, whisking away the protection spell. “Sometimes that works, but you’ve had your head in a book since you could read.” Dragging her other mirror, she squinted at the page. “That’s weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These designs,” she traced the edge of her own image with a finger. A border of colored lines surrounded the spell. “They’re rhythm marks.” Squinting, she nodded slowly, agreeing with her own incongruity. “They look like fae rhythm marks. How old’s the book?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s from her private collection.” Amity bit back a smile. “She says it was one of the earliest works with abominations.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And she let you just carry it home with your Azura fanfiction?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you, she’s getting desperate. Why’s that important?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Faerie language is sung for the most part. Even when it’s spoken, it’s unearthly melodic.” She gazed at the marks wistfully. “Faerie magic is even more so. The different pitches you sing words or phrases are the castor’s choice depending on how specifically you want to manipulate the spell. If there’s fae markings, this must have fae origin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Direct faerie origin?” Amity stared at the marks. “This isn’t nearly as old as the one in the library.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My guess would be that some aspects were carried on to help the potency of the magic after the language died out. They only got rid of them when they realized they didn't apply.” She shrugged. “You’d be surprised what people stick with out of useless tradition.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you read it, though?” She fumbled with the lid of a small pot, lifting it to see the beginning of an abomination slosh around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a mental thing in your style, I guess, but if it was a spell,” she began tapping a hand to her chest in rhythm. They sat in silence for a moment before she let out the first note. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity had heard her speak in faerie before (mostly swearing), but she had never heard anything like the melody before her. Her voice rang clearly, the notes turning as the words hauntingly hung in the air, the song rising and falling with her voice. She was so captivated that she almost didn’t notice the pot in her hands begin to shake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Alice kept her eyes trained on the page, wincing as she warbled for a second, Amity watched the liquid begin to grow, an arm reaching out over the rim. It rose with the ethereal melody, forming to fit the vaguely purple, vaguely humanoid shape she was so familiar with, growing until all that was left in the pot was its foot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if noticing her distress, Alice looked up from the page to see the vast creature spreading to fill her view of the mirror. Eyes widening, she sat straighter, and ended the song, the abomination immediately shrinking down. “That’s impressive, Ames.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared at her blankly. “That wasn't me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was me?” She blinked. “But, I’m through a mirror and I’m in another world, another reality!” She stopped, mid panic, brows narrowing. “How the hell could that have happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As long as you're singing, it’s pretty strong.” Placing the lid gingerly down on the pot, Amity smirked. “It was huge.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wonder what I could do if I didn’t end off so suddenly?” A mischievous glee spread across her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She paused. “Didn’t end off?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t end off a spell properly, it’s not liable for whatever feedback you get.” Alice shuddered. “Trust me, I speak from experience.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could,” Amity bit her lip, steeling herself to get the courage, “could you teach me that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Alice looked positively flummoxed. “Teach you what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she played with a strand of hair, feeling color begin to rise in her cheeks, “if fae magic and witch magic are as connected as you’ve theorized, you could teach me how to speak it.” Her eyes widened, pleadingly. “You talk a lot about hybrid magic and,” she glared at her hands, “I’m not doing so well with tradition.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ames,” Alice’s eyes softened, “I can’t help you with your magic, hell, I can barely deal with mine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to help me with my magic, I want you to teach me yours.” She hefted the book to the mirror again. “Whatever they’re teaching us at hexide isn't the only type of magic. Eda’s been teaching Luz mostly connected with nature, and that makes me wonder if her ways are connected with yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you asking me to mentor you?” The question hung in the air with delicate vulnerability. “Because, kid, you really shouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why shouldn’t I?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a mess, I’m-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you always say about self deprecation?” She raised her eyebrows, arms crossed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice stuck her tongue out at her. “Don’t use my own words against me. It’s just,” she ran a hand through her hair, pausing midway. “You haven’t seen me on my bad days yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about that day you curled up on your bed in sweatpants and a sports bra and refused to move?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was a period day, not a bad day.” She sighed. “One of those means my uterus hates me, the other one means my brain hates me. Amity, my mind is really, really old.” She held up a hand. “When I say I’m not great, I mean I have the mental stability of a vase held together by duct tape. Yeah it seems fine, it’s technically pieced together, but one wrong move and it shatters.” She shook her head, blinking back tears. “I don’t want you to see me shatter, darling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sentence lingered, falling into a solemn silence. Amity, broke it, smiling softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re friends, aren’t we? I just, I can’t talk about this stuff with Luz or any of my,” she paused, “acquaintances. Ed and Em have their own things going on. I don’t have to be perfect with you. You don’t have to be perfect with me, either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Knees drawn up to her chest, she looked even more like a faerie. She’d look younger if it wasn’t for her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ancient, aging, eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Definitely.” She grinned. “Do you think you can try it again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice’s smile returned, crouching closer to the mirror. “I bet I could teach you a bit of it to repeat.” Grasping around for the grimoire on her end, she couldn’t suppress the excitement in her voice. “Different notes have different degrees of power, so the more notes in play-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-the stronger it can be.” Amity brushed her books out of the way to make room for the pot in the center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She squealed. “Boris is going to be giant!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boris?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” her nose crinkled with her jubilation, “you’ve had that thing in your room for who knows how long. I think he deserves a name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she nodded slightly, “but why Boris?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No clue,” hands raised above the open book in her lap, she shrugged, “it just seems right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you say so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do,” tiara twinkling on her head, Alice looked down at her regally, “now let's try this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amity couldn’t help but grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>No responses as of late, but I figured I'd post this anyway. </p><p>It'd be nice to know what you think if you read this.</p><p>Stay safe, wear a mask and be kind to yourselves!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! </p><p>Don't forget to leave comments and kudos ;)</p><p>And have a great rest of your day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>